Page 18 of The Husband Sitter

Mr. Blue snags my wrist and drags me inside, up against his impressive body. While his mouth works over mine in a passionate kiss, Mr. Black crowds me from behind, moaning into my hair and grinding his erection against my backside. As always, Mr. Red stands to the side with a glass of whiskey in his hand and waits for me to acknowledge him separately. And I do. As soon as Mr. Blue lets me come up for air, I flutter my eyelashes at Mr. Red. “Hi, Daddy,” I mouth, for his eyes alone.

His cheek ticks in response. Then he winks.

I’m spun around to encounter a rough, demanding kiss from Mr. Black. He guides my hand to his erection, urging me to stroke him off without words. Cool air glides over my buttocks and I sense my skirt has been dragged down. That theory is confirmed when I hear Mr. Blue’s knees hit the floor and feel his tongue dragging up the center of my bottom.

“Good Lord,” Mrs. Blue singsongs as she enters the room. “They can’t even wait until we get out the door.”

Mrs. Black snorts. “Don’t mind us, gentlemen.”

Mr. Black breaks the kiss, his mouth twisting in a smirk. And then Mr. Red steps into his place, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “Whatever happens tonight, just remember that I’m allowing it, young lady.”

Knowing what this man—what all of these men need—to be satisfied, I nod dutifully. “Thank you, Daddy,” I mouth. “I love you.”

He reaches around to squeeze and give a light slap to my backside, which Mr. Blue is still hard at work on with his wicked tongue. “Good girl.”

The front door opens, and I wave goodbye to the laughing wives in a daze, security and love surrounding me like a heat wave. Then I’m too lost in sensation to think. I’m carried to a bedroom and feasted on for hours by my three men, their growls of rapture echoing off the walls of the house. Later, they hold me close and kiss every inch of my fevered skin like I belong to them.

I do. I’ll belong to them forever.

Their devoted husband sitter.